


Tempered in Fire

by DebraHicks



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: Chief's past comes back to cause him and the Gorillas trouble.  Can Garrison and the crew save Chief and make sure the man responsible is caught?
Comments: 16
Kudos: 14





	Tempered in Fire

Sparse moonlight glinted off the sharp blade. Garrison stiffened. The man was part of the night, moving slowly to stand over the sleeping figure. Garrison's hand tightened around his pistol but he waited. With a jerk the shadow figure turned away and disappeared into the silent forest. With a relieved sigh, Garrison let his hand fall away from the gun. Coming to his feet, he followed Chief into the woods.

The youngest member of his unique team was leaning back against a large tree, his face tight with strain. Chief's knife twirled dangerously in his hand. He didn't acknowledge Garrison as he sat down. The silence stretched out.

Finally, in a level voice, Chief asked, "Would you have shot me?"

As much as Garrison hated the answer, he said, "Yes."

Chief pulled his knees up. "Thought so."

"But that's not what stopped you, is it?" Garrison questioned.

Chief seemed confused by his own actions. He reached down and plucked a piece of grass, chewing thoughtfully on it. "I want to kill him."

Garrison laid a hand on his shoulder. "Chief, I can't tell you I understand what happened ..."

"It was a long time ago," Chief said levelly. "Not important anymore."

But Garrison could tell by the Indian's haunted eyes that there was more to it. His hand tightened. "Chief, if there's something you need to tell me...."

Looking over, Chief studied him, dark gaze searching, and all Garrison could do was wait and hope that the Indian found what he was looking for. After another minute, Chief nodded to himself, having found what he wanted.

Chief said, "When we get back. Something about Pryor. Something that should have been done a long time ago. For now, this mission, you and the others, that's what matters."

The anger that had blazed in Chief's eyes was gone, replaced with acceptance of his new life and new responsibilities. Garrison took a deep breath.

"Whatever you want, Chief," he agreed reluctantly.

He was rewarded with the quick smile he'd started to see more often on the young man's face. Nodding back to camp, Garrison said, "We'd better get back."

As he turned Chief again touched his arm, though he didn't meet Garrison's look. "I was seven when they took me to boarding school. But before that, my grandma told me never disappoint someone you respect."

It was a long speech for the normally quiet man, and Garrison waited for the rest of it. The black eyes met his again, filled with more warmth than he had ever seen on the serious face.

"If I had shot him, you'd have been disappointed," Chief said levelly.

Garrison smiled at him, letting the friendship reach his own expression. "Chief, you and the others continually amaze me, but you have never disappointed me."

His statement was met with a disbelieving smile. "Not even during that jewel heist?"

Garrison laughed. "Okay, maybe once."

With a flick of the wrist, Chief held his knife out to the other man. "So, I won't."

Looking at the knife, Garrison shook his head. Chief gave a single nod, accepting his trust.

As he turned to go, Garrison said, "Chief, I would have aimed for your leg."

Chief gave a short sound of amusement, then moved toward camp.

*****

"As if this trip weren't interesting enough," Casino said sarcastically.

Garrison shot him a quick look that said shut up as well as any order. "Actor, did Sister Teresa say if there were another boat we could get?"

"She didn't know of one, apparently the whole fleet has set out for the weeks fishing. I didn't think it safe to stay any longer. She says she is being watched," Actor explained, starting to strip off his priestly robes.

"Watched?" Garrison asked. "Does she need to leave? We can take her out with us."

Actor shook his head. "I offered. She said she didn't think it was for her underground activity. The local Germans believe she is hoarding supplies. If she is caught with more than, shall we say, a reasonable amount the most that will happen is she will be reprimanded."

"Black market is usually punished a little more severely than that," Garrison insisted.

"They don't want to alienate the local populace," Actor explained. "The supplies coming in from the village are too important."

While he didn't like the answer, Garrison accepted it, knowing the tough little novice too well to think he could talk her into going out with them.

"This is a really great escape you've got going here, Garrison," Pryor growled. "I knew I could have done better alone."

Garrison was sick of the man. He came to his feet, shoving away from the rough wood table in the center of the half-burned out farmhouse. Two strides brought him face to face with the heavy set Colonel.

"Colonel," he said very calmly, "if you say one more word I will have you tied and gagged."

Pryor drew himself up to his full height, though Garrison still had several inches on him. "You won't dare. Lieutenant," he pronounced the last with a great deal of satisfaction.

"Try me," Garrison returned with the same measured control.

Garrison could feel Casino and Goniff come up behind him. Faced with three outraged men, Pryor fell back a step, but his eyes still blazed with fury. Near the window, Garrison could see Chief smile faintly.

"This isn't going to end with this mission, Garrison," Pryor snapped. "If you manage to get me out of this alive, I will have you up on charges."

"Colonel," Garrison said quietly. "Charges are the last thing I'm worried about."

With the Colonel momentarily stilled, Garrison turned to the task at hand. Pulling out a map and glancing at his watch at the same time, he said, "Okay, we've got until dawn to meet that sub. Chief, we need wheels."

What was left of the door creaked and Chief was gone.

Garrison continued, not even look up at Chief's departure. "There's another village a little over five miles south of here. When Chief gets back with the car... "

"What makes you think that Injun is going to find a car in a nothing village like this?" Pryor demanded.

Goniff smiled over at him. "Chief could find a car in the middle of the bleeding North African desert."

"Goniff," Garrison cut him off. "I want you and Actor to go into the village and see if you can find any kind of boat."

"And what do we do in the meantime?" Casino asked without sarcasm.

Garrison smiled. "Well, we've got to eat sometime."

*****

"You'll like this part," Actor promised with a smile. "It's a yacht, though a small one that belongs to a local collaborator."

"So we don't even have to return it," Goniff said firmly, knowing how Garrison felt about stealing from civilians.

"But..." Garrison prompted.

"But the motor tends to stop after an hour or so, which is why it is the only thing in the village."

"No motor?" Casino rolled his eyes. "Just how the hell can we..."

From his perch near the window, Chief said, "I can keep it going."

The statement wasn't a brag. Garrison nodded, the others were silent, accepting Chief's talent as a given. A snort of disgust sounded from the other side of the room. Garrison glanced over, found Pryor glaring at the Indian.

"Chief Fixemup," Pryor muttered.

Hate flared in Garrison's nerves and he nearly took a step toward the ranking officer. But a slight movement near the window called his attention to Chief. The man's calm gaze met his, the steady look reminded him that if Chief could let it go, he could at least do the same. He returned to the problem of their escape.

"How hard will it be to get?" He asked.

He was answered with a casual wave of Actor's hand and a smile from Goniff. "A single lock on the cabin door," the Italian said with disregard.

"Five seconds, tops, Warden," Goniff added.

Casino smiled. "Maybe our luck is changing."

Glancing out the window into the growing dusk, Garrison ordered, "We'll go just before midnight. Chief, first watch, everyone else, let's try to get some sleep. After midnight we're going to be busy."

*****

He was on his feet, gun in hand before the shot had died out. In the slight moonlight coming in from the partial downed wall, Garrison spotted a heavy set figure standing near the window, gun pointed outside. Three others came to their feet, and Garrison identified them without thought. Chief was still on watch. Disbelief and terror seized him - Chief was outside. Garrison knew instantly what had happened.

"Pryor! Drop it!" He yelled.

Flashlights and a lantern brought light to the small area. Pryor turned to Garrison, a hard, satisfied glint in his eyes. "I saw someone outside," he said coldly.

"Actor," Garrison said through clenched teeth, "get outside..."

"Chief!" Casino realized what was going on. "Goddamn!"

Casino flashed passed Garrison, tackling the colonel before he could even raise the gun. They slammed into the wall, then went down in a tangle. Pryor was heavier but Casino had sheer rage on his side. Holstering his gun, Garrison leapt into the struggle, grabbing for Casino. Actor and Goniff ignored them to rush outside. Casino shrugged off Garrison's grip, wrapping his hands around Pryor's throat.

"Casino! No!" Garrison ordered.

"The son of a bitch shot Chief!" Casino yelled.

For a moment Garrison wanted very badly to let Casino go, wanted to see him squeezed the life out of the arrogant colonel but he fought the image away. Wrapping his arm around Casino's throat he threw himself backwards, breaking Casino's hold. The safecracker surged up immediately, trying again for Pryor. Garrison pulled him around by one arm and landed a single solid punch to his chin. Casino staggered back, hitting the wall but staying on his feet. It was enough to break his rage, though Garrison could see the hate blazing in his eyes.

Pointing at Pryor, Casino repeated, "He shot Chief."

"I know that, damnit!" Garrison returned hotly. "But killing him won't help. In one of the packs is some detonator wire, tie him up."

"You wouldn't dare, Garrison," Pryor said. "I shot at a shadow, a possible enemy. It was an unfortunate accident."

Garrison's hand tightened around his gun. He wanted desperately to know what was going on outside but didn't dare leave Casino with the man. "Go on, Casino, get the wire."

Reluctantly, Casino moved to obey, still shooting murderous glances at Pryor and a couple at Garrison for stopping him. As he reached for the pack, Goniff ran in, not even bothering to say anything he grabbed the medical field kit and disappeared back out. Garrison's worry increased, despite the fact that the need for first aid meant Chief was alive. Casino came up behind Pryor, jerked his arms behind him.

"Garrison, if you go through with this I'll...."

"Gag him too, Casino," Garrison snapped.

"Good idea," Casino approved.

He finished his task with pleasure, then shoved the colonel down to the dirt floor and tied his legs. Garrison smiled grimly. "I don't think he's stupid enough to try to run through enemy territory tied up."

"Better safe than sorry," Casino said.

With the unexpected enemy helpless Garrison hurried outside, Casino close at his heels. Chief was only ten feet from the front window, face down in the dirt, head turned away from Garrison. Actor was on his knees near the man's shoulder; Goniff was on the opposite side, holding a wad of bandages in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Garrison knelt next to Goniff. Actor glanced at him. The look on the tall con man's face sent ice into Garrison's veins.

"Bad," was the answer to Garrison's unspoken question.

Taking a deep breath, Garrison looked down. The bullet had hit to the right and below Chief's left shoulder blade, blood glistened blackly on his gray coat. Garrison could hear Chief's uneven breathing. He looked across at Actor, waiting for the details he didn't want to hear.

Actor was pressing down hard on the wound. "No exit wound." Softly he added, "It's hit his lung."

"Damn, damn, damn," Casino muttered.

With more control than he felt, Garrison asked, "What can we do?"

Voice deep with concern, Actor said, "Stop the bleeding. Get him to the sub."

"Actor," Garrison started. "Meeting the sub will take two hours. Then it's another two to London."

Actor didn't answer his real question, avoided his gaze. "Let's get him up. It will help his breathing."

All three of the other men reached for their wounded friend. Garrison slid in behind Chief as Actor and Casino lifted him. "Lean him back."

Moving slowly, they let Chief slip into Garrison's hold. He wrapped his arms around the limp body, laying Chief against his chest and tilting the dark head back to his shoulder to further ease his breathing. Blood immediately soaked through Garrison's shirt, starting a chill despite its warmth. He felt his jaw tighten until he thought his teeth would break.

"We have to hurry. Goniff, go get the car. Casino, collect the colonel."

The two cons exchanged a quick look. Casino said harshly, "We leave him."

Garrison had expected this. "No," he said firmly. Casino started to protest again but Garrison said clearly, "Get the car, Goniff. We don't have time."

Seeing the fear in his eyes and the sorrow already etching along Actor's handsome face, Goniff nodded and sprinted away without a word. Casino glared at him for a second longer, then he stood, stripped off his jacket despite the autumn chill and laid it across Chief's chest. The gentle gesture brought the smallest smile to Garrison's face.

"Thanks, Casino."

The dark haired man looked uncomfortable and shrugged. "Not much."

The stolen delivery truck pulled in very close. "Get his legs," Garrison told Actor.

Goniff swung open the double doors, kicking aside a couple of empty baskets. He moved toward the drivers seat while Garrison and Actor maneuvered Chief inside. Garrison slid down the wall into the corner behind the passenger seat. He leaned back, wedging himself in, pulling Chief back against him. Actor straightened Chief's long legs, then secured Casino's coat back around him.

A crash sounded near the door and Garrison looked up to see Colonel Pryor laid full out on the hard metal floor. Casino smiled innocently from the door. "Watch your step, Colonel."

Casino kicked the bound man's legs out of the way and slammed the door.

*****

It went as smoothly as any job they had pulled. Actor and Goniff slipped the ropes, opened the cabin and poled the good sized boat a quarter mile down shore to where the other's were waiting in the truck. Goniff tossed the rope to Casino, who tied them off to the vehicle.

"Untie Pryor and get him on board," Garrison told Casino.

"Why am I nursemaiding the bastard?" Casino complained.

"Because," Garrison explained, looking at Pryor as he did, "you'll shoot him if he does the slightest thing wrong."

"You got that right, baby," Casino said with a feral smile.

Moving to the angry but momentarily subdued Colonel, Casino pulled his gun and knife. In a tightly controlled voice, he warned, "You heard what the Lieutenant said. He meant it. So, don't even breath funny."

Cutting his feet free, Casino pulled on the colonel's arm, leading him out. For the first time, Garrison was alone with Chief. He took a slow, deep breath, noting with sorrow the sharp contrast to the short, painfully gasps that were lifting the Indian's chest. Leaning his head back, he took comfort from the fact that, while the gauze he held was soaked, the bleeding had stopped. Garrison knew that would change when they moved him. Depression settled in around him.

He'd lost men before, some younger than Chief, and each death had touched him, each letter home had left him haunted. Sitting in the dark, cold truck, he realized this was going to be different. His Gorillas had been together nearly a year, sharing missions, quarters and lives. Thoughts of losing any of the group cut deep and left him bleeding. He knew they all felt the same, even about him, though they would have gladly faced torture rather than admitting it.

Chief coughed weakly, moaning with a pain that went deeper than unconsciousness. Shifting, Garrison looked down at the startlingly innocent face. "Just keep breathing, Chief," he ordered. With a gentle touch he wiped the cold sweat off Chief's cheek. "The guys wouldn't know what to do without you. Neither would I."

A shift in moonlight warned him of movement. He looked up to met Goniff's gaze. From the look on the man's face, he had been there long enough to hear Garrison's quiet words. The small thief only nodded, a quick nervous frown touching his face.

"I'll get his legs," he said casually. He looked at Garrison and added, "We'll get him home, Warden."

Garrison nodded, "I know we will."

Slowly they lifted Chief, ignoring the small whimpers as they moved toward the boat. Garrison took one look at the flimsy board they had stretched from the boat to the shore and knew trying to get Chief up it would only get them all wet.

"Give him to me, then get on board."

Carefully, Garrison took Chief into his arms like a father with a child. Suppressing a shiver, he hoisted Chief higher and waded into the waist deep water. From the side of the stolen boat Actor and Casino leaned down and lifted the wounded man aboard. Actor picked him up as Garrison had and moved to the cabin. Casino helped Garrison climb over the railing.

In the stern, Goniff was holding a gun on Pryor. "The cabin has a bunk, plenty of blankets and we found some food."

It was promising news. Garrison could feel his legs going numb in the cold wind.

"Better get out of those clothes," Casino urged. "Last thing we need is another patient."

"What about him?" Goniff gestured toward Pryor.

"Tie him and bring him below," Garrison ordered.

He started below, stripping his shirt off as he went. Actor had already put Chief on the narrow bunk, had a stack of blankets holding him upright, several of the thicker quilts covered him. Garrison stepped out of his soaked pants and Actor handed him a blanket.

"I'll get us underway," Actor promised. He patted Garrison's arm as he went by, offering assurance with his confidence.

As soon as he was out, Pryor came stumbling down the short steps. Garrison looked up, expecting Casino only to met a smiling Goniff. With a shove, Garrison put the man into a small desk chair. Under his feet he heard the engine try to turn over. It coughed twice and died. There was a click, two more choking coughs and silence.

Pryor leaned back in the chair and laughed. "Looks like you're going to lose this one, Garrison," he chuckled.

"Diesel...."

The word was so soft that Garrison thought he'd imagined it. But when he whirled around to Chief, onyx eyes stared back at him.

"Chief," Garrison whispered as he sat down carefully on the side of the bunk. "Don't talk."

"Diesel..." Chief repeated, ignoring him. "Can't start... normal..."

He reared back, fighting to draw air into his damaged lung, hand clutching at the edge of the bunk. Garrison grabbed it, startled by its chill.

"I've got you. Try to relax." Realizing that Chief was going to keep talking until he had delivered his message, Garrison kneaded one shoulder and asked, " You can't start a diesel like a normal engine?"

Chief nodded once, meeting Garrison's eyes. Garrison swallowed at the pain and fear sparkling in the dark gaze. "Warm up.... . Glow plugs."

He arched back again, whimpering despite the white teeth he had clamped over his lip. Garrison's hand tightened and he had to blink hard to stop his own reaction to Chief's pain. "Okay, Chief. How do we warm the glow plugs and for how long?"

"Switch.... Near ignition. Five... min..."

The Indian gave up his fight and sank back into darkness. Garrison surged to his feet, though he keep his grip on Chief's hand. "Actor!"

Instantly three faces appeared in the small door. "Lieutenant, I can't..." Actor started in apology.

"Chief says there should be a switch of some kind near the ignition. Turn it on and in five minutes we can have this tub moving."

Actor looked relieved and hopeful, whirling without a word to use the information.

"I wonder how he knew?" Goniff questioned from the doorway. "About the diesel and all."

Garrison shook his head, having not even thought of that. "When he's better, we'll have to ask him."

Sitting back down, Garrison slipped Chief's hand back under the blankets, pulled the covers up around his shoulders. Five minutes later the engines roared to life and they started for home and help.

*****

The chair under Garrison shifted slightly as the boat pitched in the open strait. He was pleased to note that Pryor was looking queasy. For ten minutes he had been staring at the man, trying to put it together, trying to make sense of his murderous hatred of Chief.

"It's more than just hating cons," he concluded.

Pryor stared back.

Garrison leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, very conscious of Chief's increasingly difficult breathing. "You hate all of them. But why shoot Chief?"

"I shot a potential enemy," Pryor said smoothly.

"No," Garrison said just as calmly. "We both know the truth on that. What I..."

There was a sharp gasp from the man in the bed and Garrison turned, fearing the worse in Chief's deteriorating condition. To his regret, Chief was struggling toward consciousness, fighting the pain to gain awareness. Garrison moved to the bunk, lay a hand on Chief's shoulder as the black eyes blinked open. There was confusion in the gaze this time.

"Easy," Garrison whispered. Trying to guess his friend's questions, he explained, "We're in a stolen boat on our way to the sub."

"Shot...?" Chief asked.

Garrison's hand tightened. "Pryor. Through the window."

To his surprise, Chief accepted this with an almost rueful smile. "Six years... finally manages..."

Pryor surged to his feet. "Shut up, redskin!"

Garrison was instantly between them, protecting Chief. Before he could say anything, the door behind him opened and Casino was in the room, gun in hand.

"Just one shot, Warden," he begged. "Just in the leg."

"Take him topside," Garrison said firmly. "I'm tried of looking at him." Casino smiled wickedly, prompting Garrison to add, "And no accidents, Casino."

With a frown, Casino stepped forward, and glanced sideways at Chief. Garrison watched the blood drain from the New Yorker's face. The stricken brown eyes locked with Garrison's, begging for assurance that it wasn't as bad as it looked. Garrison glanced away. It was worse than it looked.

Casino sat carefully down on the bunk. Chief opened his eyes and watched the man with warm impatience. It took two hard swallows for Casino to find his voice.

Laying a hand on Chief's leg, he said levelly, "You look like shit, baby."

"Feel.... like," Chief panted.

The weak voice brought another shadow to Casino's face. He covered it, smiling. "I bet."

Garrison stepped closer. He understood Casino's need to be there but he desperately wanted Chief to rest. Casino glanced up at him; Chief's pain reflected in his face. With a nod, he stood, knowing what Garrison wanted.

Losing all pretense of joking, he brushed Chief's hair lightly. "We'll get you home," he promised.

"Know it," Chief said with the same certainty.

Casino turned back toward Garrison. The look on the man's face would have caused most men to step away. But Garrison was expecting it, knew how loyal they were to each other, knew what each of them was capable of.

"If he dies," Casino swore, "I will kill Pryor. Don't try to stop me."

"Get Pryor out of here," Garrison said, ignoring the man's threat. He wasn't sure whether it was because he didn't want to argue or didn't want to stop him.

Casino grabbed the man roughly and hauled him out. With a deep breath Garrison sat back down. Dampening the rag he'd been using to cool Chief's face, he leaned over and was surprised to find Chief still conscious. Garrison completed his task, trying to offer comfort anyway he could.

"Pryor's..." Chief whispered, "a murderer."

That stopped Garrison's movement, for an instant stopped his thoughts. Of all the situations he had considered between the two men -- this was not one of them. He didn't doubt for an instant that Chief wasn't telling the truth.

"Infirmary..." Chief continued, drawing a breath for each painful word. "Killed con... Bubby.... Kirkisky. Should ... said some... then..."

It had taken more strength that Chief could spare and he started to cough, hard, doubling over with a choked cry. Garrison was immediately holding him, wrapping an arm around his chest, pulling him upright, rubbing his back.

"Slow, easy breaths," he said firmly.

The body in his arms was rigid with the effort to breathe. Chief's head tilted back and Garrison's breath caught at the sight of blood on the white lips.

"Damn," he muttered. Wiping the obscene sight away with shaking fingers, he repeated, "Easy now. I'm here."

The cough subsided, leaving Chief breathing even more roughly. He opened his eyes once more, gave a single, almost invisible smile. "Thank..." He slipped away again.

*****

"Warden?" Goniff called softly.

Garrison stretched his legs to the deck. He'd been sitting on the bunk since Chief's bout of coughing. He looked up as the small thief came in. As with Casino before, an expression of dismay crossed Goniff's fair face at the condition of his friend. Chief was shades beyond pale, muscles in his neck and face strained with the effort of breathing, sweating despite the chill of his skin. Goniff came forward, holding something out toward Garrison.

"Actor opened a couple of cans of edibles, thought you might need some."

Garrison glanced at the offered can of peaches but despite having not eaten in nearly 36 hours they held no appeal. Goniff was watching him eagerly though so he took the can and set it on the deck. "Maybe later."

Seeing the open concern on Goniff's face, Garrison moved away and let him take a seat on the bunk. The Brit stared sadly at Chief, picking nervously at the edge of the blanket. "He's going to be okay, ain't he, Warden?"

Goniff looked over at him, eyes wide, like a child asking for assurance against nightmares. Garrison had nothing to offer him. "I don't know," he said honestly.

Patting, Chief's knee under the layers of wool and cotton, Goniff took a breath and said firmly, "He'll be okay. He wouldn't... die. He owes me twenty bucks."

"Ten...." Chief gasped.

Chief's eyes flickered open and met Goniff's. Goniff nodded, tilting his head slightly. "Yeah, well, maybe it was ten. Either way, I expect to drink it up at the Sable and Thistle when we get back."

"Can I do anything for you?" Garrison asked.

"Water," Chief breathed softly in between pants.

"I got it, Warden," Goniff said quickly, grabbing the canteen that was laying on the deck.

Garrison held Chief's shoulders while Goniff handled the water. Chief took two sips, then arched back in pain, causing Goniff to spill some of the water on his chest. The little thief immediately looked quilt stricken.

"Sorry, mate, sorry." He mopped at it with the edge of the blanket.

"S'okay..." Chief gasped.

His hand moved under the blanket but he didn't have the strength left to lift it free. Goniff saw the shift and lay his own on top of the blanket, squeezing hard. Chief smiled with his dark eyes and Goniff fought valiantly to return the expression, failing miserably. Jerking to his feet, he gestured toward the door.

"I'd better go see, you know, if Actor needs some help."

He reached the top step and turned back. In the lantern's soft light Garrison could see tears in Goniff's blue eyes as he waved back at Chief. It struck him then - Goniff was saying good-bye. And the other two would follow, coming, sitting in silence or trying to smile if their friend was awake. Anger flared along his nerves.

Stop it!" He ordered suddenly.

Goniff turned, startled by his outburst. "What?"

"I know what you're doing. He's not..."

Chief was dying. They were still an hour away from even the slightest bit of help and they all knew that a medic was not going to do any good. What right did he have to stop them from saying good-bye to someone they cared for? None. Rubbing his eyes, he took a slow breath.

"I'm sorry, Goniff," he said softly. "Send the other's in whenever they're ready."

As if his acceptance was a signal for fate to desert them, the engine died. From above he heard Casino start cursing, then yell, "I'll look."

Goniff vanished toward the stern. Garrison came to his feet, stepped toward the door.

"Stay," Chief whispered.

Instantly Garrison was beside him. Chief took another breath, opened his mouth to say something and could only shake his head in hopeless frustration. Garrison understood. The others weren't the only ones who wanted to say good-bye.

"I know," he told Chief softly, wiping his face again. "I'll be here."

It was enough, Chief gave up the struggle to stay awake, content that someone was with him. Helplessness washed through Garrison as he watched the man continue to fight for air. Chief was losing the fight, each breath taking more of his fading strength. It was only the fact that he was young and in prefect shape that had keep him alive this long. Eventually Chief's strength would burn out; he would try to draw breath and fail. Garrison flinched away from the image.

Below the engine backfired but nothing else. Casino shouted something to Goniff. Over the shouts a slight sound at the door brought Garrison around. Actor was standing there, handsome face streaked with grease that served to highlight the dark circles under his eyes. Bending slightly to get in, he knelt next to the bunk, without hesitation reaching up and stroking along Chief's throat.

"Casino and Goniff are working on the engine," he explained unnecessarily. "I had hoped he might still be awake." He looked at Garrison, said lightly, "Perhaps with more advice to offer on how to get a reluctant engine to cooperate."

Garrison shook his head. "No, nothing more."

Actor nodded at the real meaning in his words. A sad smile touched his mouth. "What a strange world to bring us to this, to make us friends."

Not knowing what to say, Garrison waited, letting Actor talk, knowing that it made the man feel better. But Actor only sat, slowly stroking Chief's damp hair. The silence was broken only by Chief's uneven breathing.

With shaky sigh, Actor stood. "I should perhaps go see if they need help." His eyes darkened with sorrow. "I had wanted him to know I was here."

"I think he knows," Garrison said quietly.

"Bloody hell!" Goniff's voice rang out --

Brilliant white light flooded the cabin. Garrison was on his feet instantly. "The sub!"

*****

Standing at the bottom of the ladder, looking up, Garrison had to admire the smooth efficiency of the sub crew. They had strapped Chief into a stretcher and gotten them all off the yacht in less than ten minutes. Garrison grabbed the end of the stretcher as it came down the narrow ladder.

"Medic?" He questioned over his shoulder to the man wearing captain's bars.

"We don't have a medic. Will a doctor do?" The captain answered in a deep gravely voice.

Garrison's mouth dropped open. "A real doctor?"

"Another passenger," the captain explained. "And very real."

Garrison looked over the captain's shoulder to where the rest of his team stood. Smiles appeared on each weary face and hope flashed for the first time in their eyes. The same response moved along his nerves - until he looked down at Chief. The harsh breathing had become irregular wheezing, his lips were slightly blue, speckled with blood and he was so deeply unconscious that even during the move there had been no sound from him.

Looking up at the two men holding the stretcher, he ordered, "Hurry."

They nodded at him, starting down the long narrow hall. The four made to follow, only to be stopped by the captain stepping in front them. Garrison started to push him aside. The captain laid a hand on his arm.

"I know you want to be there, Lieutenant, but there's simply no room." With a warm smile that helped salve Garrison's shattered nerves, he added, "And you might want to borrow a uniform before you go parading around my boat."

Seeing the logic in his words, and suddenly very aware of the single blanket, Garrison sighed. "You're right. Thank you, Captain Harriman."

"But Warden," Goniff protested, "Chiefy ..."

"Yeah, suppose, well, you know... he might want..." Casino tried inarticulately to voice his fear.

Actor, standing behind the other two met Garrison's eyes. He lay a hand on Casino's shoulder. "He didn't say we couldn't see Chief," he said easily. "But he's hardly going to let us in during surgery."

"Let's get a shower," Garrison encouraged. "That and a change of clothes will make all of us feel a little more human."

He turned and nearly slammed into Colonel Pryor. The man looked passed him at the Captain. "Captain," he said hotly, "I order you to throw this whole bunch in the brig."

"I was just about to say the same thing," Garrison said calmly.

The captain glanced between the two. Looking up at Garrison, he said, "He's a colonel."

"He's also an attempted murderer," Garrison explained. "He was the one that shot my man."

Surprised looks went through the crew standing within hearing range. Twice before they had carried Garrison and his unit to France; they knew of their successes and their camaraderie. The Captain took a slow breath, looking from Pryor back to Garrison. After what seemed a long time, he looked toward two crewmen near the periscope.

"Take the colonel below," he ordered levelly.

Pryor exploded. "You can't do that! Damnit, his men are nothing but cons! I'm a colonel in the US Army."

Regarding him with dislike, the captain said, "And Garrison is a lieutenant. More importantly, I'm the captain on this boat, which over rides both of you. Take him below, Davis."

Screaming his outrage, Pryor was lead away. Garrison noted that the sailor holding his arm took a certain amount of pleasure in shoving him a little roughly. He briefly wondered if it was a general dislike of officers or if Pryor just inspired that response in everyone.

"Jones," the captain continued. "Show these gentlemen where they can shower and see if you can find some of the crew that will loan them some clothes."

Garrison nodded. "Thank you. As soon as Chief's..."

"I'll send someone for you as soon as we know."

*****

The shower was hot and should have been soothing. It wasn't, doing nothing to relieve the tension along Garrison's muscles. They had been brought clean uniforms as they finished and the sailor had told him there was hot coffee in the galley next door. Now, sitting in silence with the others, all of Garrison's thoughts keep spinning back to Chief. Death had been so close before that Garrison couldn't imagine him lasting this long, even with a doctor's care. Despite trying to think positive, Garrison felt his sorrow start, already acknowledging Chief's death.

Actor cleared his throat. "Are you going to tell us now what this is all about, Lieutenant?"

It took a moment for his wandering mind to come to the question. Finally, he said, "Chief saw Pryor murder a con in Statenville."

"Blimey," Goniff said quietly.

Actor said thoughtfully, "Why didn't Pryor kill him then?"

"Yeah, happens all the time in stir," Casino said.

"Come to mind," Goniff continued, "why shoot him now, when we'd know he was the one what did it?"

"I don't know," Garrison admitted tiredly. "I've told you everything Chief told me. Something must have made Pryor think Chief would do something about it now. Maybe he thought Chief would try to blackmail him."

Actor chuckled softly. "You can't tell?" At Garrison's blank look, he continued, "Not blackmail. Pryor's afraid of you, Warden. He's not stupid, a blind man could see how loyal Chief is to you. Perhaps Pryor was afraid that if you knew the truth you would convince Chief to do something about it."

Garrison rubbed at his eyes, the conversation with Chief seemed so long ago. He knew now that was exactly what Chief had planned. "He was going to." Realizing his slip into the past tense, he added firmly, "Is going to."

"I wish we'd hear something," Goniff put their frustration in words.

Standing, Garrison patted the small thief's shoulder. "So do I." With a sigh, he told them, "Look, we're all exhausted. There's no reason to sit here waiting. The doctor will come wake us..."

"Could you sleep?" Actor asked with a half-smile.

Garrison only shook his head, holding up his coffee cup. "Not if I keep drinking..."

The hatch opened and a short, heavy set man with dark hair and startling blue eyes walked in. "Which of you is Garrison?"

"I am," Garrison answered.

The man stuck his hand out. "I'm Doctor Morris."

Goniff, Casino and Actor immediately crowded close. The man must have been experienced, because before anyone could even start questioning him, he held his hands up. "Please, gentlemen," he said in a heavy Irish accent. "I think we'd better sit down."

Grabbing the man's arm, Garrison demanded, "Is he alive?"

The doctor nodded, but the seriousness of his expression didn't change. "Yes. Please," he motioned to the benches again.

Garrison sat down, Actor next to him while Goniff and Casino took the other side, leaving Morris on the end. The man studied each of them before his eyes finally came to rest on Garrison. "Yes, Lieutenant, your man is alive. But I won't tell you I can keep him that way."

Garrison had known that would be the case. While the man might be a doctor, a submarine infirmary was not a hospital. He nodded shortly. "I'm sure you did your best..."

"Lt. Garrison," Morris said seriously, "I know this isn't going to mean much to you but we did better than that. Given the facilities, we pulled a small miracle keeping him alive through the surgery and getting him stable."

"Oh yeah," Casino growled. "Then why is he still near dying?"

Leaning back, unfazed by the biting remark, Morris said, "Your friend was in a crisis condition by the time I got to him. We got the bullet out, stopped the bleeding and drained the blood out of his lung. Those are the good points. The bad points are he nearly bleed to death, the blood in his lung caused a lot of damage and he's in a coma."

"You're being very blunt," Actor commented dryly.

The blue eyes glared at him. "Would you rather I lied to you?"

"No," Garrison said quietly. "Can we see him?"

"I'd rather you didn't," the doctor said gently. "He needs quiet and rest. We arrive in port in forty minutes. I'll have an ambulance waiting. One of you can ride with him to the hospital. I can also arrange a doctor to take his case."

"A good one," Goniff said quickly. "Don't matter how much."

Garrison smiled, hearing in Goniff's words his promise that no matter what it cost, he would steal it. Morris only heard the concern and smiled at the team. "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to take anything else."

He stood. "I suggest you all try to get some rest. If there's any change before we reach port, I'll call you."

Garrison came to his feet, held his hand out. "Thank you, Doctor. The fact that he's alive and breathing is enough for right now."

*****

Garrrison stood at the door for a minute, staring through the small window at the two men inside. Goniff was leaning forward in the uncomfortable chair, staring down at the book opened on his knees. In the two minutes Garrison had been at the door, the little thief had twice stopped his pretense of reading and reached out to touch Chief's arm. Under the oxygen tent Chief remained oblivious to the slight gesture. With a sigh, Garrison went inside.

Goniff looked up, then glanced at his watch. "I thought Casino..."

"I'm not here to replace you," Garrison said quietly. "I was just on my way to headquarters and thought I would stop by."

The thief knew it for a lie. Headquarters in London and the small Catholic hospital were in the opposite directions. Goniff didn't say anything, merely gave him a quick smile.

He stepped closer and Goniff made to get out of the chair. "Stay," Garrison waved him down. "I won't be long."

Peering down at Chief though the thin cloth, he tried to keep his fast rising depression off his face. In the three days since their return there had been no change in Chief's condition. Dr. Hillyard, Chief's surgeon, had been very clear that the longer the coma lasted the slimmer the Indian's chances became. There was little they could do, except keep quiet watch beside him, something they were doing in six hour shifts. To Garrison's surprise, Colonel Flagg had sympathized with his request to not be sent on any missions for the moment, though their commander couldn't guarantee how long he could hold them out of the war.

"Warden?" Goniff asked softly.

Garrison looked down, and knew that Goniff had sensed his mood was caused by more than just Chief's condition. With a lame attempt at a smile, Garrison only shook his head. "Meeting with the board attorney today," he answered vaguely.

Before Goniff could form more questions, Garrison started out. "I'll see you tonight."

*****

"Lt. Garrison." The Captain returned his salute, then extended his hand. "I'm advocate Captain Wayne. I'll be handling your charges against Colonel Pryor."

The man gestured toward a chair in front of his desk. Garrison sat down, idly moving his hat in his hand, glancing around at the atypical office. They were in a building that had been a law office, so instead of the usual army metal gray it was done in dark woods and polished brass. Wayne even commanded a beautiful view of London.

Wayne sat down, frowned at Garrison. "I'm going to be square with you, Garrison. This is not going to be easy."

Garrison had been expecting this response. "I understand that the reason behind Pryor's shooting of Chief is hard to bel..."

"To prove," Wayne cut in. "We can't prove it."

"Does that matter?" Garrison ventured. "Pryor shot Chief on a moonlit night, when the man was only ten feet from him."

"Pryor admits to shooting your man," Wayne reminded him. With a sigh, he summed it up in a few lines. "Here's our problems, Lieutenant. Pryor admits to the "accidental" shooting. He's a colonel, you're a lieutenant. Your man is a convict."

"Chief," Garrison suddenly cut in. "My man's name is Chief."

Wayne paused, saw Garrison's point. "Chief," he nodded. "Sorry. Anyway, the reason you give for the shooting being deliberate is unproved."

Garrison leaned back, jaw tightening, hands moving the hat a little faster. When put in nice, neat military logic, there seemed little they could do to get Pryor. He very much wanted to punch something, preferably Pryor.

Wayne was sharp, he recognized the anger in Garrison's expression. "That's not to say that we're giving up. There are some incidents in Pryor's file that could be brought up, reports of misconduct concerning mistreatment of some of his men."

Still frowning, Garrison said, "That doesn't sound very promising."

"There are also the suspicious conditions before the shooting. And Chief's report. If he can convince the board that Pryor did have it in for him, that will help."

"And if Chief can't testify?" Even if Chief came out of the coma tomorrow Garrison doubted he would be in any shape to testify in a week.

"I can be of some help there," Wayne volunteered. "Because of Chief's condition, we can get the inquiry postponed for a week or so."

Nodding, Garrison said, "Thank you, sir."

Shuffling the files around on the massive oak desk, Wayne said, "Well, I can't see anything else right now." He stood. "Keep me updated on Chief's condition and anything you might find out about that incident six years ago."

Garrison saluted and marched sharply out of the large office. He didn't feel very positive about the meeting.

*****

By the time he reached the mansion, he knew he would have to inform the others of what he suspected was going to happen. It was not going to go down easy; it hadn't with him. Actor and Casino were both in the main room; Actor reading, Casino playing solitaire. The scene seemed so normal that he would have almost believed nothing was wrong. Until the silence reached him. When things were normal, they were never silent. Coming up behind the New Yorker, Garrison looked down at the game. He smiled sadly, Casino was so distracted he wasn't even cheating.

"Lieutenant?" Actor asked softly from his chair. Garrison was not surprised that he had notice the quiet mood.

Actor's question brought Casino around to face him. The man's face paled as he misread Garrison's expression. "Chief?"

"No," Garrison assured them quickly. "No change."

He went to the table and sat down, laying his hat carefully on its pitted surface. The others joined him. Garrison suddenly felt like he had months earlier, in a dirty French attic when he had told them the truth behind their suicide mission. Now, as then, there was no easy way to break the news.

"Pryor is going to get away with it," he said bluntly.

The cons exchanged a quick glance. Actor took a sharp breath, straightened in the chair. Casino's reaction was more violent.

He came to his feet, pushing up so violently he sent the chair sailing away. "Whatta mean? They can't do that!" His eyes narrowed. "They can, can't they? Pryor's Army, and Chief's just some damn hood that..."

"That's not it," Garrison said calmly. He had expected Casino's reaction; it had been his first reaction as well.

"Don't give me that!" Casino hissed.

"Casino!" Garrison barked sharply. Their eyes locked and something in his gaze must have gotten through, Casino jerked the chair upright and sat back down with a thump.

Actor was also glaring at him but was willing to wait. Glancing between the two of them, Garrison said quietly, "Pryor is going to go free because we have no proof."

"Proof!" Casino started again. "Chief is laying in that hospital more dead than alive, what more...."

"We can't prove," Actor said understanding the problem, "that it was deliberate."

Casino took a breath to continue his triad but stopped when he realized that the tall conman was right. Garrison nodded. "Accidents happen. It was dark. We were in enemy territory."

"But..." Casino said helplessly. "He knew Chief was out there."

Garrison loosened the top button on his uniform. "Oh, he'll probably be reprimanded for carelessness, maybe even be stationed on a desk for awhile."

"So, what do we do?" Actor cut to the main question.

"I've got a suggestion," Casino said darkly.

Garrison didn't acknowledge the threat. Coming to his feet, he lit a cigarette and offered one to Casino since Actor was fingering his cold pipe. "Pryor is still being debriefed. The inquiry is set for two weeks. Before than we have to find something to show that Pryor had a reason to kill Chief."

"And how are we going to do that?" Casino snarled "Pryor got away with one murder without anyone even asking questions."

"We don't know that," Actor countered. He looked up at Garrison. "All we have is a name. There may have been an inquiry, record of misconduct."

Garrison frowned. "We're flying blind. We need details. I'll get Pryor's and Kirkisky's records."

"Do you think they'll release them to you?" Actor wondered, knowing how tight a brotherhood the prison boards had.

"During a war it's amazing what Army Intelligence can get done," Garrison assured him.

"And if that doesn't help?" Casino demanded.

"Then we'll think of something," Garrison promised.

*****

Garrison wasn't sure whether having Chief out of the oxygen tent made his condition seem better or worse. With the covering gone it was easier to see how pale he was, how impossibly still. Five days had crept by and Chief's state had started to show on the whole team. Closing his eyes, Garrison leaned back away from the small desk he'd had brought into the room. He knew he should stop the watches. It wouldn't help to work themselves into exhaustion. But everytime he considered it he felt a wave of guilt hit him. Leaving Chief alone in his darkness would be too close to deserting him, to admitting there was no hope. Garrison had lost hope once during the nightmare boat trip, he wasn't going to do it again.

He thought of stepping into the hall for a cigarette but took a deep breath and returned to his study of the neat stack of files on the desk. The files had arrived the night before and they had divided them into three sections. Actor had taken Pryor's; Casino was tracking Kirkisky back while he handled Chief's. So far the only things he had been able to figure out were a timeline and the fact that Chief's survival had been mostly luck.

A sudden harsh gasp from Chief made him jump. Chief was taking deep, hard breaths, struggling as much as he had on the boat. Garrison leaned over him, holding his arm down on the bed.

"Chief! Chief!" He pleaded.

There was no response. He began to thrash and Garrison sprang for the door. Jerking it open, he yelled toward the nurse's station. "I need a doctor in here! Now!"

Turning back to Chief, he sat on the edge of the bed and tried to hold him still. "Easy, Chief," he pleaded.

He was grabbed from behind and shoved ruthlessly out of the way. The room was swarming with medical personnel. A large nurse shoved him into the hall before he could even think about protesting. He thought about going back in, stopped as another nurse pushing a tray table sped passed him. Garrison leaned back against the wall, feeling helpless again. It was a feeling he really hated. Thoughts of calling the others tugged him toward the nurse's station. He stopped as he picked up the phone. What did he have to tell them? Was Chief coming out of the coma? Or were the convulsions a sign that he was slipping away?

Putting the phone gently down, he found a chair and lowered slowly into it. He had barely settled down, when one of the staff doctors emerged from the room. Garrison controlled his impulse to jump to his feet, instead watching the doctor's every move. The man came toward him, and Garrrison rose but the doctor spoke to the duty nurse first.

"Nurse Mangan," he ordered crisply, "call Dr. Hillyard. Tell him I have an update on his patient." The man turned to Garrison and smiled. "Your friend's decided to rejoining the living."

For a full minute the words didn't register. "He's going to be okay?" Garrison asked softly.

The doctor's expression turned cautious. "He's still very weak and fighting a bit of an infection. But he's out of the coma."

Relief washed the strength out of Garrison's legs and he sat down hard. He took a deep breath, rubbing his face with both hands. A strong hand touched his shoulder.

"Okay?" The doctor asked.

Garrison looked up, still a little stunned. "Yeah, yeah." He came to his feet. "When can I see him?"

Glancing at his watch, the physician said, "It'll take a few minutes to get him settled and the drugs we gave him will keep him asleep for the night."

"The night?" Garrison said in dismay.

Smiling with understanding, the doctor said, "You can peek in, but only that. He'll sleep naturally now, a lot but a few of visitors every few hours shouldn't hurt though."

"We'll need an office nearby," Garrison suddenly decided.

"Lieutenant," the doctor said, "we'll call you if there is any..."

Shaking his head, Garrison said, "No. We have work to do and we'll need to see Chief as often as possible. An office will take care of both."

"This isn't an Army hospital, Lieutenant," the doctor reminded him a little sharply. Garrison only glared at the man. With a sigh, the doctor relented. "I'll see what I can do."

With that concession, Garrison went the few feet down the hall and carefully opened the door. A single nurse remained in the room, settling the blankets back around Chief. She turned at his entrance and made to move him out.

"Doctor Dryer said it was okay," he whispered.

Frowning but not saying anything the sister left. Garrison moved to the bed. The change in Chief was subtle but after five days Garrison could see it immediately. His breathing was deeper, slower and there was slight movement behind his eyelids. The slight flush of adrenaline stained his cheeks, giving him the only color Garrison had seen in the eight days since he'd been shot. While Chief still looked very sick and very frail, for the first time Garrison felt the Indian would live. He grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed. He knew he should call the others but for just a minute all he wanted to do was enjoy his relief.

"Ward ..en..."

The voice was hoarse and Chief's dark eyes flickered open only to slip shut. Garrison reached out and took his hand. "I'm here, Chief. You're in a hospital in London." He wasn't sure the man was still awake but he kept talking. "The doctors say you're going to be fine. One of us will be here. You're safe. All you have to do is rest and recover."

The lips moved in a small smile. "Made it..."

He sighed, drifting into sleep. Garrison squeezed the callused hand in his and returned the smile. "Yeah, Chief, we made it."

After another calming minute he stood, gathered the files and went to the phone. He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he dialed. Goniff picked up.

"He's out of it!" He practically shouted.

Sounds of excitement and relief filled the phone, forcing him to hold it away from his ear. The last thing he heard was Actor's rich voice telling him they were coming down. He didn't try to stop them.

*****

"Damn," Garrison said in frustration. "There files are so sketchy, they're useless."

Casino, surprisingly calm now that he had something to do, picked up the file Garrison had thrown on the table. "You just have to know how to read the lingo, Warden."

For an instant Garrison thought of saying no, unsure of Chief's reaction if he found out Casino had seen his file. He left it, sure that Casino wouldn't bring it up to the other man. Casino's expression tightened as he scanned the report Garrison had been reading.

"Damn," he said quietly, repeating Garrison earlier word but in a tone of disgust. Sarcastically, he read, "Patient brought in 2/11. Fall in stairwell while being escorted to prison yard. Broken ribs, severe bruising, miscellaneous injuries."

Garrison heard Actor take a sharp breath. The two cons exchanged quick, knowing glances that spurred on his aggravation. "What?" He demanded.

"The guards are the ones that beat him," Casino informed him through clenched teeth.

Garrison straightened. "How can you tell that?"

"If they had broken up a fight or even just found him beat, they would have said so, would have taken great pleasure in getting the guys," Casino supplied.

Actor lay his pipe on the table. "Chief was also raped."

If Actor was expecting surprise, Garrison didn't give it to him. He had seen enough during his search for the team to know that such things happened all too often. He also knew that at barely eighteen Chief would have been a prime target for both guards and inmates. Miscellaneous injuries were a convenient catch all. He sighed, wondering how men came out of places like that sane, how this group had managed to retrain some sense of loyalty and humor.

"What did you find, Casino?" He asked, returning the main problem.

"Kirkisky was brought in the day before Chief, February 10th, complaining of stomach pains. He died the next morning. Cause was listed as respiratory arrest, which is pretty strange for a man with a stomach ache. Chief was the only other patient at the time."

"If Pryor knew Chief saw him, why didn't he just kill him then?" Goniff brought up the question they had wondered about earlier.

"Two deaths that close together in the same ward may have been more than he wanted to explain," Garrison ventured, lighting another cigarette.

A tray cart rattled by outside their temporary office. Garrison glanced at his watch; the doctor would be finishing with Chief soon. One of the team had been with him constantly, leaving only when Dr. Hillyard was in or the nurses were bathing him. Garrison had seen the wicked smiles on Goniff's and Casino's faces when they had found out about sponge baths. He had a feeling Chief wouldn't hear the end of it soon. A wave of gratitude hit him again over the fact that the man was around to be kidded.

"Two days later, Chief had the good fortune to get worse," Actor explained. "The doctor had him transferred to a local hospital. From there he was transferred to a different prison."

"Wonder why?" Casino questioned. "Normally he would have been sent back to Statenville."

Again they had no answer.

Casino gestured toward the files. "So we know who, when, where and how Chief survived it - but we still have no why! There is no connection between Kirkisky and Pryor."

"Which means we're back to our word against Pryor's," Goniff said with uncharacteristic harshness.

"Which means," Casino continued. "We have zilch, zip, zero."

"Not yet," Garrrison said thoughtfully. "What we need is someone to back up Chief's word. We need to find out if he told anyone."

*****

The door to his temporary office opened quietly and Casino motioned to Garrison. "He's waking up. Doc's not here yet."

Garrison followed the other man back to Chief's room. "Stay out here," he told Casino. "Stall Hillyard or the nurse if they try to come in."

"No sweat, baby," Casino agreed. With a quick nod toward the room, he said, "Tell Chief I was here."

Garrison nodded, going in and closing the door behind him. Chief was shifting under the light cover, fighting to wake up. Taking the chair next to the bed, Garrison laid a hand on Chief's arm, shaking it gently.

"Come on, Chief," he urged.

Hillyard would kill him if he knew Garrison was disturbing his patient. Chief would kill him if Pryor got off because they didn't wake him. Chief was still propped up, though he looked slightly better. There was color on his cheeks and some of the lines of pain had faded from around his mouth. Chief's eyes flickered open.

"Good afternoon," Garrison said lightly. "Casino just left."

Nodding fractionally, Chief whispered, "Water?"

Filling a cup from the metal pitcher, Garrison held it steady while Chief drained it. "More?" He asked. Chief shook his head. "You're looking better," Garrison added.

The glance Chief returned him said that looking and feeling were not the same thing. "I bet," Garrison said in sympathy.

Noting the drugs that still lurked in Chief's eyes, Garrison realized he would have to hurry. He reached out and lightly gripped Chief's chin, bringing his wandering attention around to him.

"Chief, did you tell anyone about Pryor killing Kirkisky?"

Chief studied him closely, seemed to be trying to make sense of the statement. He shook his head, barely moving against Garrison's hand.

"Damn," Garrrison whispered through clenched teeth.

"Saw him..." Chief said.

Garrison smiled patiently at him. "I know, Chief. But we need someone to confirm your...."

Chief shook his head hard this time, fighting to stay awake. "Not then. The night he... shot me."

For a full minute Garrison stared at him. "How? He shot you in the back."

"Few minutes... before... was watching me," Chief shifted, trying to get away from the pain. He flinched, lips thinning as he tried not to moan.

Garrison's questions disappeared. He had been too long. Hillyard needed to be here. "Relax now, Chief. The doctor will be here soon." Kneading the muscular shoulder, he promised, "You can tell me the rest later."

A sharp shake of his head scattered Chief's black hair against the white pillow. "Don't like... being drugged."

Garrison smiled, understanding all to well the feeling. "I know. It won't be much longer."

The tension under his hand relaxed. Garrison was relieved to see Chief asleep on his own. Sleep would help more than the drugs he didn't like.

*****

Closing his eyes against a headache that wouldn't go away, Garrison leaned back in his chair and took another long pull on his cigarette. Chief had seen Pryor, was a witness to his own attempted murder. But it didn't matter. On Monday it would still come down to his word against Pryor's. They hadn't gotten any closer to discovering any connection between Pryor and Kirkisky. He stood up, forcing himself to head downstairs.

He found Actor and Goniff in the kitchen. One look at his expression and they knew things had not gone well. Silence claimed the group, which he was gratefully for given the present state of his head.

"Chief didn't tell anyone," he informed them. "But he did see Pryor watching him through the window before he was shot."

"Lot of good that does," Casino complained. "They'll still take Pryor's word over..."

"We are idiots!" Actor suddenly announced.

Garrison was in no mood for insults and started to snap his displeasure at the tall conman. But Actor wasn't looking at him, was suddenly animated, coming to his feet and pacing the room. "We never had a chance of proving a six year old murder that took place 1500 miles from here. And we don't have to!"

Seeing where he was going, Garrison said carefully, "We don't have to prove Pryor killed Kirkisky, just that he meant to kill Chief."

"Exactly," Actor said.

"Wait!" Casino cut them off. "I thought we agreed that the only way the Army was going to believe Chief over Pryor was if we proved Pryor had a reason?"

Garrison stabbed his cigarette out. "That's where we were wrong."

Actor nodded his agreement. The man's brown eyes connected with Garrison's and he knew what they had to do. Reluctantly, he said, "We're going to have to get him to try again and catch him at it."

"What?" Casino snapped. "Are you two nuts? Chief is helpless. On top of which, even Pryor is not stupid enough to try something now. If Chief were to buy it now, he'd be the first one suspect."

"And what happens," Actor said calmly, "when Pryor gets out? He will try again."

"If we control how and when he tries, we can protect Chief," Garrison explained.

He pondered the questions raised by the safecracker. "You're right though, he won't try it himself, even if he could."

Actor smiled at him from across the table, raised a single eyebrow. Garrison returned his look. The smile turned rueful, it was getting scary how much he had learned to think like them. He stood and came to stand behind Goniff. "Pryor thinks all cons are dirt and there's no honor among thieves. And we're going to let him believe that."

Goniff looked up at him suspiciously.

*****

Garrison opened the door quietly, not wanting to wake Chief if he was asleep. The Indian was propped up on several pillows; his eyes were closed, his head back. A chill went down Garrison's back, Chief's position was too similar to the one he'd been in one the boat.

"Hey, Warden," Chief said softly. He opened his eyes after acknowledging the man's entrance. He closed the book that was laying open on his lap.

Pulling up the chair, Garrison sat down, reached over out of curiosity and picking up the book. "Hamlet?" He asked in surprise.

"Never got to finish in prison." Chief smiled, obviously pleased with surprising his warden.

His voice was stronger though he still had to pause between words. The weight he'd lost made him retain the frail look. Garrison also noticed that his eyes seemed different, brighter than they had the day before. On impulse he reached out and lay his hand on the man's forehead. He was hot as a spent shell.

"Damnit, Chief," Garrison barked coming to his feet. "Does the doctor know..."

"Yes, Lieutenant, the doctor knows he has a fever," a strong voice told him from the door.

Garrison found himself confronted by Dr. Hillyard, a tall blond who didn't look old enough to be as good as they had been promised. The man stepped passed him and reached for Chief's wrist, ignoring the glare it gained him from his patient.

"Chief has a upper respiratory infection," Hillyard explained calmly. "It's not unexpected it cases like chest wounds or near drowning."

Not liking the implications of any kind of infection, Garrison asked, "Is it dangerous for him to testify tomorrow?"

Hillyard glanced at him. "Testify? No one talked to me about this. As far as I'm concerned this man is not getting out of bed for at least another week."

"No one..." Garrison's jaw clenched. "Colonel Flagg was suppose to clear Chief's appearance with you. If he can't be there we'll have to postpone the hearing."

"I'll be there," Chief said firmly.

"No, you won't," Hillyard returned in a commanding tone that any general would have been proud of.

Chief only glanced at Garrison, ignoring the white coated doctor. "I should have ... should have said something when he... killed... when it happened."

There was a lot of regret in the single weak sentence. Garrison frowned, wondering briefly if Chief had been friends with the other con or just felt he should have stopped Pryor. Garrison started to say something to but Hillyard nodded toward the door.

Patting Chief's leg, Garrison said, "I'll be back."

Garrison followed Hillyard out of the room. "Lt. Garrison, I know Chief seems much better, and he is, but he's still a very sick boy."

"Boy?" Garrison straightened. "Doctor, that "boy" has been in more battles than men twice his age and three times his .... service. And if we don't stop Pryor now, what happens to Chief when the colonel can take another try at him?"

That gained him a startled look but Hillyard wasn't one to be cowed. "Then unless you can get hold of some penicillin, you'd better count on him being here a long time."

Frowning, Garrison asked, "Penicillin?"

Waving it away, Hillyard said, "It seems that Army personnel are the only ones who can get hold of it." He took a breath. "I'm very serious about this, Lieutenant, you will be risking his life if you go on with the inquiry in three days."

Garrison sighed. "Can I talk to him?"

Hillyard didn't like the idea, but he nodded. Glancing at his watch. "Ten minutes, no more."

Taking a deep breath, Garrison came back into the room. Chief was leaning back again, taking slow, swallow breaths. The pain he had managed to cover before was clear now as his strength faded into exhaustion and drug induced sleep.

"I'm not going to let you go unless Hillyard says you're fit to do so," Garrison said firmly.

Chief studied Garrison as intently as he had in the French woods so long ago. "I have to go," he said in a tone that was almost pleading.

Garrison shook his head. "Pryor isn't worth your life."

A slight smile touched Chief 's face though he didn't comment on Garrison's statement. Garrison saw his need to explain, his need for Garrison to understand. Sitting down, Garrison waited.

""I could never... stop men like... Pryor before," Chief whispered. "Screws... mouthpieces... bribed..." Chief's voice slurred as sleep reached for him.

"Chief, that's enough for now." Garrison touched his shoulder, trying to get him to relax.

Shaking his head slightly, Chief continued, locking gazes with Garrison. "No one would... have believed me. It was just me." He took another slow breath, said softly, "You... believe me. The guys... believe... I have to do this.... for all those... times I... couldn't."

He reached out and laid his hand on Garrison's forearm; the heat burned Garrison's skin. Chief wanted to say more, but the drugs won at last and his eyes closed, hand still locked around Garrison's arm. Garrison sat for a long time, worried by the heat radiating off the slender body, worried about what would happen if he refused Chief's request, worried that no matter what he decided, Chief would find a way around him.

The problem still had no answer when he left a few minutes later.

*****

"They won't delay!" Actor stated in disbelief.

Garrison shook his head, not liking the answer any better than Actor. "Not again. They said two weeks was the latest they would be put off. We either have to go with what we have or drop the charges."

Major Benton, the commander in charge of the inquiry had been quite blunt with him - if Colonel Pryor were innocent, they needed him back on the lines immediately. He had also pointed out that they couldn't spare Garrison's unit much longer either. That part worried Garrison a lot. If they were sent on a mission while Chief was still helpless and Pryor was free, he had no doubt that the Indian would have an accident in their absence. It was obvious that command expected Pryor to go free and the rest of them to go back being good little soldiers. He had not even tried to tell Benton of his fears.

"So, what are we gonna do about it?" Casino asked.

"We are going with the original plan," Garrison said. "Tonight."

Goniff winced. "Why me, Warden? I'm not nearly as good a liar as Actor."

Garrison smiled at him. "But you're a much more believable murderer."

"Ah, well, thanks a lot."

*****

"At least, we didn't have to steal the equipment," Casino said quietly as he crouched next to Garrison.

"There are advantages to being in command," Garrison joked.

"Still had to sneak in though," Casino returned.

As much as Garrison hated to admit it, sneaking in had been way too easy. They had gotten onto the base and found the officers' quarters without any problem. From there it was simply a matter of finding the unit Pryor was being held in. Casino had made short work of the locks on the next apartment. Garrison could only imagine the damage a command unit could do here. Cutting off a wire, he made a mental note to mention the incident to Flagg once everything was over. He held out his hand and Casino slipped the microphone into it.

Twenty minutes later they were back in the truck checking the receiving ability of the radio set Garrison had requisitioned. A couple of quick connections hooked the receiver into the tape machine they had "borrowed" from the local BBC. Garrison leaned back.

"Ready for your performance?" He asked Goniff.

The man dropped his cigarette into the floor of the vehicle. Glancing up nervously, he asked again, "Warden, you sure..."

"Remember only the front room is wired," Garrison advised, ignoring the rest.

"Hey, baby," Casino said in encouragement, "just remember, it's for Chiefy."

Shrugging and nodding at the same time, Goniff took a deep breath and opened the back. "Just remember," he reminded them, "if I say anything nasty about anybody, it's all an act."

"Go," Garrison said with a smile.

Less than five minutes later voices carried over the high powered unit. Garrison tried to settle back, but desire for the plan to work, keep him tense. A muffled voice sounded first. Garrison sat up and flipped worriedly at the radio's dials. Pryor's voice came over loud and clear.

"What visitor?" Pryor demanded.

A strange voice said, "Goniff, from Lt. Garrison."

"Tell him I don't see anyone from..."

"Ah, now mate," Goniff joined in, "you'll be wanting to see me." His voice dripped with secrets. There was a moment's silence.

"All right," Pryor said coolly. "But make it quick." A door closed in the background. "Now, what the hell does Garrison want?"

"Yeah, well, that was a bit of a fib, wasn't it," Goniff said lightly. "Warden doesn't know I'm here."

Suspicion, and just a touch of fear colored Pryor's voice. "Then what the hell do you want?"

"Now, now, matey, don't go getting nervous," Goniff said smoothly. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to help you out of some."

Up against the other side of the truck, Casino laughed shortly, "Actor should be here, he'd love this."

Over the tinny speakers, Pryor's gravely voice said, "What trouble?"

"This," Goniff said shortly. Garrison could imagine him gesturing around the guarded room. "Being locked in sort of makes you one of us, don't it?"

It was a dangerous remark but Pryor ignored it. "You're one of Garrison's group, why would you want to help me?"

"Garrison's group," Goniff snorted. "My ticket out, that's all. Doesn't mean I wanna marry any of 'em."

There was the sound of footsteps and another door. "Since it was an unfortunate accident , I don't need your help, so get out," Pryor ordered.

Garrison exchanged a quick look with Casino. Goniff was losing him.

"Pull the other one, guv," Goniff said lightly. "You may have gotten away once but this time didn't work out very well."

The door slammed and there was the sound of quick movement. "Easy, Colonel, wouldn't want someone to get the idea you hated cons. And if you think you're going to get off, you'd best think again. Garrison's a sneaky bastard. He found someone to back Chief's story."

Dead silence.

"Who?" Pryor finally barked, giving up all pretense of innocence.

"The honorable Wade Warren, Chiefy's lawyer. Seems Chiefy told him about the whole thing. Warren's the one that got Chief transferred, to get him away from you. Old bloke must have a soft spot of Injuns cause he's willing to fly over here and tell his story."

"Course," Goniff continued. "He can only testify want Chief told him, which makes it hearsay. Without Chief, well, there ain't no case, is there?"

Garrison found himself holding his breath. It was now or never, either Pryor asked the question or he kicked Goniff out and came up with his own plan.

"What are you suggesting?" Pryor said.

"Ah, now, how shall I put this?" Goniff said with an obvious smile. "If Chiefy were to have a fatal relapse..."

Pryor laughed harshly. "Real unit loyalty."

"Look, either we talk money here, " Goniff said with surprising steel in his voice. "Or you're on your own."

"Settle down," Pryor soothed. He paused. "Okay, how much to kill him?"

"How much is your career worth?" Goniff prompted.

Garrison nodded. The hook was set.

"How will you do it?" Pryor asked.

"Not your concern, is it?" Goniff countered. "Though I won't miss like you did. Very sloppy, mate, missing at only ten feet."

"Damn prairie nigger's got more lives than a fucking cat," Pryor complained.

Garrison and Casino held their breaths, what they had was good but Pryor's next statement tied it all into a neat little package.

"I'll give you $10000 to kill him."

"Yes!" Casino hissed. "Got you bastard!"

Garrison smiled, feeling swept with relief and Casino's enthusiasm. Five hundred yards away, Goniff continued to play it out.

"Half up front," he argued.

Pryor chuckled. "No way, con. I'd end up with Chief on the stand and you gone. You'll get the money when I get free."

There was silence as Goniff considered. "Okay. Ain't like he's a tough target, laying there in bed."

"When..."

"Never you mind," Goniff cut him off.

A door shutting put an end to the conversation. Garrison let out a deep sigh and smiled widely. "I see why Actor likes this sort of thing."

Casino sat back against the cold metal of the truck. "Not me, baby, nice quiet safe job, that's the way to go."

Garrison smiled, feeling like they had gotten the first good news since Chief had come around. Now, all he had to do was take the tape to the prosecuting attorney. With any luck he wouldn't even have to take the stand on Monday.

*****

"You're not fucking going to believe this," Garrison said harshly, slamming the door with considerable force.

It was so rare for him to curse that Casino and Goniff both straightened in their chairs. Before he could start talking, Actor opened the door and came into the already crowded room.

"How's Chief?" Garrison asked quietly, his anger momentarily forgotten. Chief's temperature had continued to rise. While it wasn't dangerous yet, it wouldn't take much for it to go that way.

Actor's dark eyes were filled with worry. "He's sleeping peacefully but his fever is still high."

"Okay, Warden," Casino demanded, returning to the original outburst. "What's wrong now?"

Squeezing passed Goniff, Garrison sat down with a thump behind the two by three foot desk. He rubbed his chin, a nervous habit that he knew the cons would recognize as a bad sign. "They won't take the tape as evidence. Goniff and I will have to testify, explain that it was a trap."

"You mean they're going to ignore evidence to turn Pryor loose?" Casino fumed.

"No," Garrison corrected. "They will listen to the tape. But no one's ever used a recording as evidence in a court-martial, so they're not sure how to handle it. We have to testify to back the recording."

"What about Chief?" Goniff asked. "They gonna need him too?"

Garrison shook his head. "I don't know. Hillyard has sent over a report on his present condition but the inquiry is still set for 0800 tomorrow."

"Is there an angle we have missed?" Actor asked, more of himself than anyone in the room.

Garrison said quietly, "If we did there's no time for it now."

He realized that Actor was watching him with that sharp eyed thinking look that always worried him. Trying to ignore the gaze, he said, "There's no need for all of us to be there tomorrow. Actor, you and Casino, stay here and keep an eye on Chief. If he hears that we're going without him, he may try something stupid."

With nods of agreement, Casino and Goniff started out, passing Actor without questioning his stationary posture. They were use to Actor and Garrison exchanging thoughts in private. Garrison waited until the door closed then looked up into the con man's dark eyes.

"What haven't you told us, Warden?" Actor asked.

There was no use lying, Actor saw through lies as easily as he spun them. "Hillyard says if Chief tries to testify it could endanger his life."

Actor nodded, understanding the problem. "So, you are left with the question of whether to let him go, knowing that even with his testimony the board could still find for Pryor."

Rubbing his tired eyes, Garrison said, "I've tried to talk Chief out of it. He insists he has to do this. He sees this as his chance to finally strike back at the corruption and mistreatment he endured all these years."

"Six years ago, he was alone," Actor observed. "Now he has us, to back him and to believe him."

Garrison nodded, not surprised to find the conman understanding the other man so well. He wanted to let Chief testify, wanted to see Pryor pay. But memories of the nightmare boat ride and Chief's struggle to live were still too close. "He also knows we'll look out for him," Garrison argued. "And that may mean letting Pryor get away for now."

Looking up at Actor, he admitted to the other thing bothering him. "I could have killed Pryor in the prison." Actor frowned, not understanding. Garrison lit a cigarette, offered the pack to Actor. The other man shook them off. "My orders said retrieve or eliminate. The minute Pryor refused to come with us I was within my orders to kill him."

He stared at the glowing end of the smoke, refusing to meet the accusation he knew would be in Actor's eyes. A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up into sympathy on the handsome conman's face. "Whatever guilt you feel you might have to carry over this - let it go, Lieutenant. If you had killed Pryor it would have been worse on this team, and especially Chief, than anything Pryor could do. The man we respect enough to follow wouldn't resort to murder."

The honest words helped cool some of the guilt he'd been burning with since seeing Chief bleeding on the ground. "Thanks," he said quietly. It didn't seem like much of a thank you, but it was all that needed between the two of them.

*****

The Army was quick and efficient when it came to court-martials in wartime. Garrison was called first by Captain Wayne, and asked to state his reasons for bringing charges against Colonel Pryor. He went into great detail about the colonel's reluctance on the mission, about his hatred of cons, especially Chief. Next he spent twenty minutes describing the events of that night; how it had been a clear, moonlit night; how Pryor had seen Chief posted as guard; how Chief had been less than ten feet from the window when he'd been shot.

The defense, headed by Captain Lewis, came up next, letting Pryor tell his version of that nearly deadly night. And, to Garrison's surprise, it was the defense attorney who asked the question the whole inquiry hung on - did Pryor have a reason to shoot Chief?

"No, sir," Pryor lied. "I regret the incident. It was my fault. I woke up, was startled by a shadow and fired. I should have been more careful."

It was said with such smooth sincerity that even Garrison was impressed with the man's acting. The gate was open now. Wayne called Garrison back to the stand to tell the rest of the story, of Chief's tale of murder. Lewis countered with Pryor's military record, including his many commendations. Wayne offered a list of complaints from men under his command. Lewis pointed out that all charges had been dropped. Finally, Wayne called Goniff and played their only ace - the tape. For the first time, Garrison saw the five man board start to have questions.

He also saw Pryor's eyes narrow in cunning. When the tape finished and it was time for the counsels rebuttal, Pryor was on the stand.

"So, Colonel, what can you tell us about what we just heard?" Major Benton, in command of the board asked.

"I said all of it," Pryor admitted easily. He pointed to Goniff. "This man came to my room and wanted me to pay him to kill Chief. I went along with the whole thing so I could trap him. As soon as he left I put a call into the hospital to have a guard posted on Chief's room."

Garrison nearly came off his chair at the blatant lie. Wayne didn't move, waiting for the questioning to come back around. When it did he calmly said, "Colonel, there was never a guard placed at Chief's door, nor was any of this reported to Lt. Garrison. How do you explain that?"

"I called it into the officer on duty, sir. What he did after that I don't know," Pryor continued to look confident, knowing that misplaced communiqu?s were not unusual.

"You wouldn't happen to have the report from the hospital would you?" Benton asked the defense.

That shook Lewis a little. "No, sir. But we will start a search for it immediately."

Benton did not seem very impressed with the answer. He looked down at the pile of reports and the tape laying on his desk. After a quick conference with the other four officers, he said, "The witness we really need to hear from is... Chief. But I understand that..."

"Excuse me, sir," Garrison stood up at attention. "But I can help with that."

Moving away, he opened the hall doorway. Chief came in, supported by Actor and a cane. Behind him, Casino stood ready to replace the cane if it became necessary. Chief was shaking, his face flushed with fever. He was wearing one of Casino's suits; it was larger across the shoulders and would allow room for the bandages. Garrison took Chief's arm from Actor, startled by the deadly heat he could feel through the wool. Guilt over his decision swept through him, made his grip tighten.

Chief looked up at him, understanding his reaction. Determination and stubbornness glittered in his eyes as bright as the fever. "It ends here," he said hoarsely.

Taking a deep breath, Garrison nodded. He had respected Chief's decision, he would not force him back on it now.

"Lt. Garrison?" Major Benton called from the desk.

Shifting his hold on Chief's trembling arm, Garrison moved him toward the box. Chief shrugged him off and walked the last few feet on just the cane. All the while, Garrison could feel Pryor's murderous glare on their backs. He sat down as close to the stand as he could.

Chief stepped awkwardly around the table that served as the witness stand, hanging on to the edge as he did. The fact that he remained standing proved his familiarity with court proceedings.

"State your name, sir," the court reporter asked.

With a glare to his companions, Chief said, "Rainey Utilkogai. Chief," he added, at the man's hesitation over his Creek name.

The reporter stepped forward to swear him in but was interrupted by Major Benton. "I think we can at least let the man sit down."

A look of quick surprise touched Chief's face at the consideration. He sat down slowly, then glanced toward Garrison. For the first time Garrison saw beyond the determination and fever - into the fear that Chief had keep carefully hidden. How old had he been when he'd stood before the court charged with murder? It was a fear born of memories, of being trapped with no friends or hope. Garrison held the man's gaze, let him see that they were with him and would not leave. The fear faded, replaced with acceptance and a touch of pride.

He was sworn in and Wayne stepped up. "Chief, Colonel Pryor has admitted to shooting you. He claims it was an accident."

"Wasn't an accident," Chief said bluntly.

"How do you know that?" Wayne questioned.

"Saw him at the window," Chief took a slow breath, wincing. "He saw me."

"How soon before you were shot was this?"

"Five minutes maybe."

"It's been brought up that you saw Pryor kill a man..."

"Objection!"

"That you claim you saw Pryor kill a man," Wayne changed smoothly. "If you knew he was watching, why did you turn your back to him?"

"Didn't..." A sudden bout of coughing cut off anything else Chief'd been about to say.

Garrison edged forward in his seat, wanting to help, to pull Chief off and get him back to the hospital. The cough died, leaving Chief looking dazed and tired. Benton put a glass of water in front of Chief. The Indian looked suspicious for a second then took it. His hand was shaking as he sipped at the soothing liquid.

"Warden," Casino leaned forward, "we need to get him out of here."

Garrison wanted nothing more than to do that, but he knew Chief deserved this chance to settle with Pryor. Meeting Casino's worried brown eyes, he promised, "If it gets any worse, I will."

Casino frowned mightily, sitting back without another word.

"Didn't think he'd shoot," Chief said with a touch of embarrassment. "Not with the others there."

"And you're absolutely certain that Pryor saw you, recognized you? That he was awake at least several minutes before he shot you?"

"Yeah," Chief's voice was rough after the coughing.

"Thank you," Wayne said with a smile.

Garrison took a deep breath. It was Lewis's turn now and he would not be gentle with the con. Worse still, Garrison could see the tremors starting through Chief's body. The Indian pulled his arms in closer, trying to get warm.

"Chief," Lewis asked calmly. "You were sentenced to prison for murder, is that correct?"

"Yes," Chief said in a short breath.

"Did you do it? Murder someone?"

Chief took a quick breath to answer but was cut off by Wayne. "Objection. The prison records are available to the board. The question has nothing to do with this inquiry."

The five men shifted closer, conferring quickly. Benton rapped the gravel once. "Sustained."

Lewis frowned. "You served time at Statenville?"

"Yes," Chief said hoarsely.

"You're claiming that Colonel Pryor shot you to keep you from accusing him of murdering a convict under his care?"

"Yes."

"If Pryor knew that you had seen this alleged crime, why didn't he try to kill you six years ago?" Lewis demanded.

"Too suspicious two deaths that close together," Chief explained. His voice was growing worse and he barely stifled another cough. "Then I was transferred."

"And why didn't you say anything about this murder to someone?"

Chief merely studied the man with a cold dark stare. "Who?"

The stare and the one word answer shook Lewis. "Who what?"

"Who would I tell?" Chief returned. "Guards? New warden? No one would have believed me."

"Chief," Benton called up his own question. "Do you have any proof about this allegation?"

"No," Chief's tone was not as remote with Benton. "Just know what I saw. Also know Pryor tried to kill me that night."

And that was it. Chief knew it was no accident; Pryor claimed it was.

"Captain Wayne," Benton asked. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Just one." The tall captain stood. "Chief, how do you feel about the Colonel?"

Garrison glanced up at the attorney, confused by the question. So was Chief. He nearly frowned. "Feel?" He looked over at the man, eyes narrowing, expression cold and deadly. "I'd like to kill him," he answered honestly.

"Why didn't you?" Wayne continued. "With all the cover fire during the prison escape, why didn't you kill him?"

Chief looked up at the man as if it were a stupid question. "Ward... Lieutenant Garrison said to bring him back. We brought him back."

"Thank you, Chief. That's all the questions I have."

Behind him, Garrison heard Actor chuckle very quietly. He turned to find the conman nodding his approval. Actor must have seen his question. "Wayne's good. He made them see why Chief is bringing the accusation up now."

"Chief," Benton still seemed hesitate over the one word address. "That will be all. Thank you."

Chief started to rise. He made it half-way up then sank back into the chair. He looked to Garrison, blinking against a dizziness that was evident in the way his hands tightened on the edge of the table. Garrison was next to him instantly. He started to wrap his arm around the man's waist.

"No," Chief requested softly.

Understanding but not happy with Chief's reluctance to show how weak he was, Garrison settled for sliding his arm under Chief's, pushing him out of the chair. Chief coughed again, breathing short. Silence claimed the room as the two men made their way to the door. Garrison heard the others rise and follow. As he shoved open the door, he could feel Chief's weight increasing. They made it into the hall, Chief turned to face him and without a sound pitched forward. Garrison caught him, holding him against his chest.

"Casino," Garrison ordered. "Get the car."

"I'll take him," Actor volunteered.

Garrison shook his head, started to lift Chief into his arms. Actor's hand on his arm stopped him.

"They will want you back inside," he reminded Garrison.

"Damn," Garrison said through clenched teeth. "I shouldn't have..."

"Warden," Goniff said quickly. "We'll take care of him."

Seeing the need to do something in the thief's blue eyes, Garrison finally nodded. "Take him, Actor. Hurry."

Actor lifted Chief with surprising grace and started for the door. Goniff ran ahead for the car. Casino started to follow, but not before giving Garrison a murderous look. Garrison had known the other two would not approve of his decision. They would have to settle it later. Right now he had more important things to finish.

Garrison watched his men disappear down the old hall. He turned and went back inside to find Benton talking to both attorneys at the desk. Garrison slid into a seat and waited impatiently. He couldn't see why he had to wait, there was nothing more to say. A shiver went up his back and he looked over at Pryor. The hate flared across the room at him but he saw something else in the man's expression. Pryor was scared. Garrison smiled very slowly, letting Pryor know that he had seen his fear. The man whipped back around to face the board.

"The board is adjoined until 0800 tomorrow when we will announce our findings," Benton announced suddenly.

Garrison was out the door before the major had finished dismissing the court.

*****

Casino was leaning on the wall on one side of the hall, head thrown back, staring at the ceiling. Opposite him, Actor was calmly lighting his pipe, though his hands were shaking. Goniff was squatting on the floor near Actor's legs, head down. They looked up at Garrison approach. Garrison's breath caught at the sorrow in their expressions. Had they lost after all?

"Chief?" Was the only word he could get out.

"Still with us," Actor said levelly.

"No thanks to you," Casino snarled.

"Casino!" Goniff defended quickly, coming to his feet.

Both men turned to the little Brit, surprised by the sharp retort. For a moment, Goniff shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, then he straightened and glared at Casino. "Chiefy wanted to go. Said he'd go with or without our help. He had to do it, it was important."

"Important enough to die for?" Casino demanded.

"No ones dying," Hillyard's voice interrupted them.

"Yet," Casino said tightly.

"How is he?" Garrison asked, ignoring Casino.

Hillyard shook his head. "Worse. His fever is up and looks like it's going to keep going. All we can do is wait for it to break."

Wait. Garrison really hated the word; waiting for the sub, waiting for the board, waiting to know whether a friend would survive the heat that was burning him up, waiting for the nightmare to end.

Looking at the doctor, Garrison asked, "Can we sit with him?"

He could see Hillyard's thought of refusal, but the man took one look at their faces and nodded. "All right, one at a time." He rubbed a hand through his fine blond hair. "For Lord's sake, the rest of you go home. There's nothing more we can do."

The doctor moved away. Garrison looked around him. "Actor, you have first shift."

Casino and Goniff both made to protest but Garrison raised a hand to stall them. "I have a mission for you two."

"What?" Casino was too surprised to be angry over the idea.

Garrison smiled slyly. "Don't worry. It's local."

"But Chiefy..."

"It's for Chief," Garrison promised.

That gained him a stare. But very gradually Casino smiled. He had seen the glint in Garrison's expression.

*****

"Colonel Pryor," Benton intoned. "Please stand."

Garrison watched Pryor come to his feet with military perfection. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath. Garrison's hands tightened on the arms of his chair. At least the waiting was over.

"On the charge of attempted murder against a civilian, this board finds you guilty."

"Yes!" Garrison breathed.

"Sir!" Pryor suddenly forgot his military training, took a step toward the board. Lewis grabbed him. "Those men are nothing but animals! He's nothing but a murdering savage. You can't do...."

Benton slammed his hand down on the table. "Enough. This court sentences you to fifteen years in the stockade. Board dismissed."

Garrison leaned back in his chair. Sometimes the waiting, even after six years, was worth it.

*****

Once again he came into the hospital to find Casino and Goniff standing outside Chief's room. The elation of the verdict made him miss the misery written in their stances.

"We won!" Garrison said enthusiastically, resisting the urge to yell it to the whole building.

"Did we?" Goniff said quietly.

His tone washed cold reality down Garrison's nerves. It was only then that he realized that they weren't due to be at the hospital, after the nights caper they should have been home in bed. "Chief?"

Casino's anger was gone, lost to concern. "He's delirious. Hillyard said... he doesn't know..."

"Also, said," Goniff added reluctantly, "that even if he lives.... he may not, you know, be normal."

"Casino, did you get that item to Hillyard last night?" Garrison asked urgently.

"Yeah." Goniff confirmed. "Doc seemed real surprised to have it."

Nodding toward the room, Garrison asked, "Actor inside?"

"Yeah," Goniff answer. "We've been taking turns since you left this morning."

Inside Actor had pulled the chair close to the bed, was holding Chief's hand. He looked up, unembarrassed at his position. Garrison knew he wanted the outcome but his gaze was drawn to the bed first. Chief was flushed with heat, tossing restlessly under the covers, mumbling incoherently. He did not look as bad as he had when they had first brought him in, but Garrison knew that death was just as close this time.

"When does it end?" He questioned softly.

A hand touched his arm and he looked down into Actor's sympathetic eyes. "Soon. One way or the other, it will be over soon. What about the board?"

Nodding, Garrison said, "We pulled it off. The board found Pryor guilty, gave him 15 years on attempted murder," he said flatly, any sense of accomplishment forgotten.

Actor smiled. "Chief will be pleased about that."

Seeing how hard the con man was trying to believe that, Garrison nodded. "He'll also be happy to know that Benton is going to contact the Oklahoma prison board and try to get Pryor's record looked into. Once the Army is finished with him, Oklahoma may want him."

Silence again, except for Chief's wordless distress. "Go home, Actor," Garrison ordered. "And take the other two with you."

"Warden," Actor said gently, "we need to be here."

Seeing the truth in his statement, Garrison sighed. "Okay, but find the hospital officer, have him take the desk out of that closet he called an office and put a couple of cots in there instead. It's a long time till morning."

*****

It was tough sitting there listening to Chief ramble, as tough as sitting through his harsh breathing on the boat. Several times he cried out, though there was never a name to go with the sound. Twice he had yelled warnings, once to Garrison and once to Casino. Just at dusk, he tried to get up, fighting Garrison with more strength than he should have processed. Garrison had yelled for a doctor and they had found Hillyard asleep in another office. The doctor took one look at the trashing body and ordered ice packs. Within minutes, Garrison was shoved out of the way and two large orderlies started to tie Chief down while two nurses packed ice around his overheated body.

Garrison flinched at the restraints. "Take those off," he ordered.

Hillyard seemed sympathetic. "Lieutenant, I know they look bad but he'll hurt himself if he..."

"I'll keep him still," Garrison said firmly. "He'll fight those even harder."

As if to prove it, Chief cried out, straining against the cotton ropes. The sisters jumped, then calmly finished laying the ice around him, putting a layer of blankets over him to hold the cold and help keep him still. Hillyard watched Chief struggled then sighed.

"All right," he relented. "He won't be able to keep it up much longer anyway."

The doctor gestured to the orderlies and they removed the ropes. Chief quieted a little immediately, still moving restlessly but without the previous desperation. Garrison sat on the bed this time, using his weight to hold the restricting blanket over Chief. He looked up at Hillyard; the doctor only shook his head.

"He's going into a crisis," he explained. "Either the fever breaks in a couple of hours or we lose him."

"What about the penicillin?" Garrison demanded.

"It takes time, Lieutenant," Hillyard said calmly.

"What else can we do?" Garrison asked quietly, unwilling to leave it to the fates that treated them with such contempt.

"Talk to him," Hillyard said. "It may help calm his delirium, allow him to rest." He hesitated, obviously not liking his next question. "Should I have Father Larken come in?"

"No," Garrison said more sharply than he intended. "No, I don't think Chief would appreciate a priest."

*****

The night stretched out into more than a couple of hours. Each man took a shift, each man talking to his friend, each man afraid that he would be the one there when Chief died, each man afraid he wouldn't be there at the end. The cycle came back to Garrison and he entered with the same trepidation as walking through a mine field. Casino looked up at him, too tried to shift from where he lay stretched out next to the Indian.

"He's quit tossing as much," the safecracker volunteered. "I don't know if that's good or bad."

Garrison nodded, sitting down as Casino stood up. He waited for the other man to leave, but Casino said quietly, "Warden, about earlier... I know you wouldn't do anything to get Chief hurt." The New Yorker's dark eyes met his and Casino admitted. "It's been real hard watching this. I don't like feeling helpless."

"Neither do I, Casino," Garrison told him.

"How do you do it, Lieutenant?" Casino asked. At Garrison's blank look, he explained, "In Africa, how did you keep watching guys you worked with get killed?"

Garrison had asked himself that same question, especially in the last two weeks. "How? It helps to know that there are things men are willing to die for - ideas, each other, family."

Casino waved that off. "No, I mean, personally." He gestured at Chief's restless form. "Watching him like this... damn, I'd rather get shot than have to sit here..."

"I don't know what you want, Casino," Garrison admitted with a touch of anger. "You either don't get close and trust to luck and training; or you accept the trust and caring, knowing that one day it may come back to haunt you."

Seeing for the first time how badly this was affecting the tough New Yorker, Garrison realized he would have to settle it now. "There are two other units like ours. I can arrange a transfer. Maybe everyone in those units hate each other."

Looking startled at the offer, Casino finally said, "I'll think about it."

Before he left, he leaned back over Chief's still form. "Hang on, baby. The Warden's gonna finish that story I started, you know, the one about the nun, the Rabbi and the lawyer."

With a quick pat to Chief's arm, he hurried out, leaving Garrison alone with Chief again. Garrison reached under the blankets and checked the ice packs. The nurse must have just been in, he decided as they were full. So there was nothing to do but sit and talk and hope.

"What else can I say to you, Chief?" Garrison wondered softly. "I've told you about the verdict. Did I tell you how Casino and Goniff got the penicillin?"

He reached under the blanket and took Chief's hand in a strong grip. "It wasn't exactly a challenge..."

A few minutes later he finished the story. His mind went blank. With a frown, he apologized, "I don't know the end of Casino's joke."

Stretching the muscles in his back he thought back to a time when they weren't constantly taut with tension. It seemed like forever. He looked out the window at the endless blackness. A chill went through him as he remembered a line he'd once read about the last hours before dawn, about how it was the time when the most people died, like souls getting lost in the darkness.

"No..." Chief mumbled. "Goniff, behind..."

"Easy," Garrison pleaded again. "I'm here, Chief."

He looked at the too young face, lined with pain and experience. His own exhaustion caught up with him and tears flooded his eyes as he once more considered Chief's loss. The Indian's quiet, unshakable loyalty had been one of the first things to convince him the team would work.

"Have I told you how much that meant to me? I don't think I've even told you guys how proud I am of you." He stopped, telling himself not to get maudlin. But thoughts on the darkness that seemed to be calling Chief away wouldn't stop.

"What will it take to keep you here, Chief?" He begged the man. "What do I say to keep you from getting lost in the darkness?"

"I know men die in war. I know the odds are one or more of us won't see the end of this... " He reached up and stroked though the thick black hair. "But damnit, Chief, we won this one! We completed the mission. We got Pryor back for command and then we got him for you. For you to die now, just isn't..."

He stopped, his hand drifting down Chief's wet arm. He'd told the cons on their first mission that life wasn't fair, so why was he now expecting it to be? Garrison straightened in the chair. Wet! Garrison looked at the man on the bed. Chief was still, silent and drenched with sweat. It ran down his face like rain off a marble statue, soaking the pillow.

Reaching out, Garrison touched Chief's forehead, found it nearly normal. Garrison stared, afraid for a moment that it was yet another trick of fate. He ran his hand up Chief's arm, feeling the dame release of heat. As he watched, Chief's eyes opened to a slit, staring at the ceiling. Garrison remembered all to well Hillyard's warning of brain damage from the too long fever.

"Chief?" Garrison called softly. He wanted to pray or scream. It had to be over! Chief had taken so much, they had all taken so much. They would not, could not lose him now. "Chief?"

The dark eyes opened further and Chief rolled his head toward the voice.

"Who am I, Chief?" Garrison asked shakily.

Chief blinked, the haze clearing, though exhaustion still covered him. "War...den."

Garrison released a long, shuttering breath, his hand tightening around Chief's. "Welcome back." He refused to acknowledge the catch in his throat as anything more than lack of sleep.

In a broken voice, Chief whispered, "Joke... 'bout ... nun... rabbi....?" He echoed Garrison's long breath, and relaxed into a peaceful sleep.

Garrison ran the back of his hand up Chief's damp cheek, wiped the mist out of his own eyes. He came to his feet, sprinting into the hall, looking for Hillyard, for his team.

"It's broken," he yelled to the old building. "He's okay!"

Several nurses immediately ran toward him, he grabbed the first one and kissed her. She glared at him, before running to find the doctor. Another ran for Chief's room.

Three haggard men came out of the spare office, rubbing eyes gritty from lack of rest. Garrison reached Actor first, grabbed his hand and pulled him into a quick hard hug, slapping his back with near painful relief. He didn't need to say anything, even had they not heard his loud announcement in the peaceful night, his expression told it all. There was a general round of exhausted laughter and back slapping before the nurse came and chased them back into the too small room.

*****

Goniff swung open the double window, letting in the subdued sunlight and soft spring breeze. At the large bed Actor was helping Chief sit up so he could eat the soup the conman had brought. To Garrison's surprise Chief was accepting the fussing without complaint.

They had brought him home that morning, putting him in the master bedroom since it had its own bath. The only protest he made was that he didn't want to put Garrison out of his room. They had ignored him. Chief had fallen asleep as soon as he'd stretched out on the bed, proving he wasn't nearly as recovered as he was trying to make them believe. But when he'd awoke, he had asked about lunch. In their eleven months together it was the first time Garrison could remember him asking for food.

"Is there anything else that monsieur would care for?" Actor joked, towel draped over his arm like the prefect waiter.

"Not right now, my good man," Chief returned. "An aperitif afterwards would be quiet nice."

Actor's mouth dropped open at Chief's badly French accented reply. Garrison and Goniff both broke into gales of laughter at his surprise. Chief only smiled.

"Touch?," Actor admitted, also smiling. "Come along, Goniff, let the man eat in peace."

No one thought it odd that Garrison stayed.

Just before the door closed though, Goniff turned around and asked, "Hey, Chiefy, how'd you know about the boat? You know, it being a diesel and all."

Chief looked blank for a moment, obviously trying to get to the hazy memories. He finally shrugged. "Smelled it. Diesel's strong stuff."

Goniff started to say something else but Actor grabbed his arm and hauled him out. Smiling at Chief, he closed the door firmly behind them.

Garrison found himself smiling for no real reason. He watched Chief finish eating in the comfortable silence.

"You're taking all this calmly," Garrison remarked. Normally Chief would have been chasing the other's away with deadly stares and not so silent threats.

Chief nodded, not needing to ask what Garrison was referring to. "They look worse than I do. Thought it might help."

Garrison thought about the insight. Letting the others play nursemaid might help, though he doubted it. The last three weeks had been too close. It would be a long time for all of them.

"Where's Casino?" Chief interrupted his thoughts.

Frowning, Garrison realized that Casino had been noticeably absent since helping Chief up the flight of stairs. "You scared him," Garrison explained.

Chief picked up a toothpick Actor had thought to lie on the tray, knowing that he would play with it. "Scared myself," he muttered.

"We all realized how important we've become to each other," Garrison stated honestly. He paused, not waiting to become sentimental, knowing Chief wouldn't like it. "Casino's just a little more uncomfortable with it than Actor or Goniff."

Chief looked up, onyx eyes meeting Garrison's, asking silently how he felt about this revelation. Garrison smiled at him. "It's tough caring about someone who could die tomorrow. But some of us wouldn't want to go out with a team that was just concerned about orders."

The deep eyes still held him. "Thank you," Chief said softly.

Garrison remembered the first tentative thanks Chief had offered so long ago. Chief hadn't been able to meet Garrison's look; he hadn't been able to accept the gratitude and respect he'd heard in the quiet voice.

Now, he returned the warm gaze. "You're welcome."

Chief gave him a quick smile and picked up the last of his sandwich. Garrison stood to leave. "I'll bring your pills up later."

Before Chief could protest the door flew open and Casino trotted in. "Hey, Warden," he said cheerfully. "How's the patient?"

"Fine," Chief said firmly.

Casino glanced up at Garrison, expression open and light. Whatever soul searching he had done had given him his answer. "About that offer, Warden. No thanks. Better the Warden you know, you know."

Garrison smiled at the joke. "Close the window when you leave. It might rain this evening."

"You got it, baby."

Casino grabbed a chair, spun it around to the bed and straddled it. Snatching a cracker off Chief's tray gained him a glare which he answered with a grin. Watching them, Garrison felt the last bit of tension fade from his shoulders.

The last thing he heard as he closed the door was Casino saying, "So, this nun walks into a bar..."

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